


Artistic Appreciation

by Mraowface



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Artistic Appreciation of Naked Portraits, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Smut, Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Oral Sex, Surprisingly Hygienic Alleyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 05:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20869109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mraowface/pseuds/Mraowface
Summary: A slightly eventful gallery opening, featuring one bare arsed slut of an angel, and a very jealous demon...





	Artistic Appreciation

Crowley sulked while being pulled along by the hand. He'd tried whining, wheedling, and threats of diabolical retribution for crimes against demons. All to no avail. Aziraphale was determined to make him go to this damned gallery opening.

He'd tried to explain that he'd _invented_ gallery openings. The oh so cheap wine they dished out. The pretentious small talk. The _people._ Oh dear Satan, the people.

And then Aziraphale had given him a stern talking to, and he'd had to banish any expression on his face for fear of the angel continuing in that awful high pitched vexed voice he used. “These are our _friends._ Stop looking like that Crowley, you've got friends whether you like it or not. And we have to go and be _supportive.”_ It was dreadful. The world was dreadful.

Aziraphale was looking offensively buoyant. He was certain there would be charming people and culture, and it would all be simply _lovely._ Crowley was sure to start enjoying himself once they got there. He tugged at the demon's hand. “Come along dearest, we're nearly there!”

Crowley grumbled at the enforced cheerfulness, with extra venom reserved for fucking Nigel and his fucking 'installations.' He'd seen incontinent chihuahuas with more artistic integrity. At least he could have a few laughs at the man's expense.

When they arrived, Aziraphale was instantly swept inside by a gaggle of his darling friends. Crowley glared at them, and stalked off towards the wine. At least he didn't have to do this sober.

The wine was a fairly grim rioja, but with a moment's demonic concentration it became more palatable. He sneered at the room. Looked like Nigel was going for acrylics these days. Most of the paintings were generic abstracts, but there was the odd recognisable subject.

Crowley began to prowl around the room. He was bored already, but maybe he could work some mischief somewhere. There seemed to be a lot of interest surrounding one large painting: Crowley decided to take a closer look.

Elbowing the less wary aside, Crowley insinuated himself through the small crowd of people. And stopped dead. People turned to stare, as the demon uttered a low hiss that just kept on going. His eyes glowed behind the sunglasses.

Suddenly Crowley span on his heels. He marched up to Aziraphale, and pushed in front of some thoroughly irrelevant people, to come face to face with the angel.

“Oh, hello dear. Are you enjoy- oh...” Aziraphale noticed the demon's face, and the angry hissing. “Are you quite alright, love? Whatever's the matter?”

Crowley was too enraged to speak. He continued to hiss, as Aziraphale gently drew him aside.

“Dearest, speak to me.” Crowley hissed further. “No dear, in English please. You know I could never get the hang of those animal tongues...” He reached up and stroked the demon's cheek encouragingly.

Crowley took a deep breath, and stopped hissing. He caught the angel's hand with one of his own, and squeezed in a not altogether friendly manner.

“What's the _matter?_ There's a fucking painting over there of my _bare arsed slut_ of an angel and I'm surrounded by pretentious twats commenting on the _quality of the brushstrokes!”_

Aziraphale blushed, although he didn't actually look upset at Crowley's words.

“Really, dear, is there a problem?”

“You – you – are you ssserious?! You posed for that – that _obscenity_ of a painting, and you ask me if there'sss a problem?”

“I thought it was rather tasteful actually. And you have to admit it's one of his better works. Why, didn't you like it?” Aziraphale looked a little hurt now.

“Sssssss... it'ssss... you _posed_ for that?”

“Well yes, of course I did. It's not like we've neither of us posed for a painting before...”

“Naked!”

“Yes, dear. Aren't you just the teensiest bit overreacting? The national galleries are _full_ of portraits of you, you put on that rather splendid guided tour for me last month!”

“That'ss _different._ That was work!”

“You were rather enjoying yourself though. Aren't I allowed to have a little fun now and again?”

“You had fun with _Nigel?”_

“Well, not in that way. Nigel was quite professional, he's a bit of a sweetheart really.” Crowley bristled at this endearment. “Really, my dear, what's all the fuss about? You can't see my face in it, or much of anything else really.”

“You can see enough! All these people _know it was you.”_ Crowley glanced around conspiratorially. The thought of people ogling _his_ angel, with _that_ body, was altogether too much for him.

“You're not the first person to have seen me naked. Remember -” Crowley cut him short with an especially angry glare.

“That was _different._ We – you – I...” Words failed him again.

Aziraphale gasped. “Crowley, are you _jealous?”_

The demon's measured response was to reel Aziraphale around and pin him to the nearest wall, narrowly avoiding the artwork. “No! I am _not_ jealoussss!”

“You're hissing, dear. And people are staring.”

Crowley glanced around angrily. Aziraphale was right on all fronts. Cutting his losses short, Crowley unpinned the angel, and instead dragged him towards the bathroom. Aziraphale waved cheerfully at people as they went past.

Once inside the locked bathroom, Crowley resumed pinning his angel up against the door. He hissed. Aziraphale was just standing there smiling, as if he _knew_ how _fucking attractive_ he looked right now. It was all Crowley could do not to tear at his auburn hair in frustration. And then, the bastard _wriggled!_ This was all too devastating.

With a groan, Crowley pushed his body closer to Aziraphale's, and bit at the angel's lips. A happy 'oh!” emerged from them. Crowley snarled, and next sank his teeth into Aziraphale's neck. The angel wriggled again, and suddenly was naked. And smiling very hopefully, with apparently complete innocence.

The demon groaned. “Turn around.” He sank to his knees, and proceeded to maul the angel's beautiful pink arse cheeks with his teeth. He took one particularly juicy bite, making Aziraphale squeal in delighted agony. Soon Crowley had left possessive red marks all over the angel's skin. Thirst somewhat quenched, he reached and swivelled Aziraphale around again.

The angel's cock was hard and irresistibly delicious. Crowley was just about to bow to his instincts, all of which were telling him _swallow, now,_ when there came a frantic knocking at the door.

“_Is everything all right in there?”_

“Oh yes,” fluted Aziraphale, sounding completely unruffled. “Be out in a minute!”

“No,” growled Crowley. “I fucking _need -”_

Aziraphale smiled. It was good to see Crowley expressing his needs, even if he was still sounding rather feral. He glanced around. “There was an alleyway just the other side of this wall...”

A blink and they were both transported there, Aziraphale still unashamedly naked. There was no-one around and, thanks to a little angelic imagination, the alley was a lot _cleaner_ than ought to have been expected.

Pressing his angel back against the almost-hygienic brick wall, Crowley finally set to work. He hungrily gorged himself on the angel's cock, pressing down to swallow its full length. Aziraphale gasped happily.

Crowley pulled back to focus on the angel's head. His tongue flickered, hummingbird-like. Aziraphale moaned, and tangled his hands in the demon's hair. He pressed in, keeping Crowley's head in place while he languidly fucked his mouth. Crowley was whimpering, still licking frantically, eyes clamped shut.

Aziraphale spoke softly, while maintaining his rhythm. “You didn't like that... all those people seeing my naked body.” Crowley made more plaintive noises. “Hush, dear. I've got you. This is just for you. _There's only you.”_

Aziraphale could feel the demon relaxing, tongue growing firmer, less frantic. “Good boy.” He made soothing nonsensical noises, stroking the back of Crowley's head. “I love you. _I love you.”_ And with that he heaved an angelic sigh, and came in the demon's mouth.

Crowley knelt in place on the hard ground for several minutes, while Aziraphale stroked his neck and whispered kind words to him. Finally he sat back, with a stupefied smile on his face. Aziraphale was gorgeous and naked and _his._

They exited the alleyway a short while later, Aziraphale miraculously re-clothed. They were about to set off homewards when Crowley gave a start, and ran back to the gallery. He dashed inside, threw several £50 notes onto the floor, and grabbed the painting from the wall.

They hung it in the bathroom. Crowley liked to be alone with it sometimes.

**Author's Note:**

> For Valvopus, you know I was thinking of you...


End file.
